Predictable
by kimmyshhhh
Summary: Procrastination is just another thing heroes do best!


**Ah, fanfiction! How I missed writing you!**

…...

Procrastinating. It was just another one of those things that heroes do, right? It's not a flaw or anything. No, Alfred didn't have flaws. Of course not! He's the hero. Heroes are supposed to men of steel! The great. The powerful. The best. Procrastination was just one of those things, which are mandatory in order to carry on with life. Like… uh… eating. And… sleeping! Ya, eating, sleeping, procrastinating. You have to do them all in order be alive. Speaking of eating, Alfred could really use one of those Burger King baconators. Mmm, smothered with grease and piled with crisp bacon, cooked to perfection—

"FOCUS!" Something in Alfred's mind snapped on. That little nagging voice in the back of his mind (the one that had gone ignored for some time) finally mustered up the courage to shout. With the shout of the normally impossibly-quiet voice, Alfred 's hand flew down to the paperwork and began scribbling down some words. He work diligently for about-… oh… let's round up to-five minutes before his mind turned into mush and he forgot what to write on the line clearly marked _signature._

"Errr…" he mumbled, staring at the line. A little fuse in his mind had blown, flicking out his light bulb of thought. The repairmen scurried around trying to connect red wire to red wire and the word _signature_ to its meaning. Finally, a great light shined and he was able to define the word _signature_ to mean _write down your bloody name, git!_

Now, why that particular voice was British didn't faze Alfred. Perhaps it was because Arthur had been the one constantly pestering Alfred to get his paperwork done. Perhaps it was because Arthur had _always_ been the one bugging Alfred to get his work done. Perhaps it was because Arthur had nagged and gotten annoyed with Alfred so much as a child that Alfred developed a little voice for the Brit that hung around the back of his mind and came out every now and then with a sarcastic comment. Or perhaps it was due to the lack of sleep Alfred had the night before. (There was a Batman marathon on the USA channel that night and Alfred never missed a Batman marathon, especially one on a channel named after him.) Anyway, Alfred didn't even seem to notice the accent.

He sighed as he signed his name for the umpteenth time and moved on to the next form. He steadily filled out three more sheets of paper, before breaking his pencil tip, tossing the damned thing across the room, and deciding to take a break. A nice long break. Alfred deserved it, of course. After all, he'd been filling out forms for nearly a half hour.

What's better to do, when taking a break, than to socialize? Catch up with friends. Chit-chat. Gossip. Talk. Oh, how Alfred loved to talk! He loved to talk anywhere about almost anything. He liked to rant. He liked to ramble. To vocalize his opinion. He even liked to sing. Anything that had his vocal cords moving, he loved. The sound of his own voice was like heaven for his eardrums. Talking was something else that heroes did. How else would they obtain vital information or say those badass lines right before they defeat the villain. Eating, sleeping, procrastinating, talking. But who to talk to when no one was around?

Tony had disappeared into the dark of his room. It was best not to disturb this alien friend, when he was in his room. Who knows what the critter could be doing? He _is_ from another planet, after all.

The whales? Well, the whales weren't much for talking. Alfred loved to go out to the beach and watch them swim and play. He loved his whales. So beautiful. So graceful. They were truly something to be admired. Whales were his absolute favorite animal, but, still, they weren't very good for talking to.

Well, there was always Arthur. Ah yes, old Artie would put up a good argument. What better way to hear your own voice than to argue? Arthur was just the person he needed to call. Especially when Alfred had barely down any of his paperwork. Arthur would not be pleased.

Alfred grabbed his cell phone off of the oak desk in front of him and walked through the heavy door, out of his study and into the hall. He stopped at the tacky gold mirror that hung in his hallway. Its curved surface gave a strange view on the world, making the pasty white walls seem bugled and Alfred's head longer. Naturally, he stopped to make faces at it. He stuck out his tongue and opened his blue eyes wider with his fingers. Observing. It was another thing that heroes did. Eat, sleep, procrastinate, talk, observe. Alfred was a true hero.

After pulling himself away from the mirror, and dialing Artie's number, he pulled the phone up to his ear. Walking down the stairs into his living room, he listened to the phone ring once. Arthur almost immediately picked up. 

"Hey, Artie~ I saw a caterpillar today. It made me think of you," was what Alfred was about to say. Before he could finish saying "Artie~", the Brit interrupted.

"Alfred, I won't talk to you until you've completed your work." And he hung up. Alfred stared at the phone in shock for a moment. Predictability. Does that go on the hero's list? …. No, Alfred wasn't predictable. It was just Iggy being… uh… Iggy. Ya, that's it. That Brit thinks he's such a gentleman, but he hangs up the phone on people. How rude! He didn't even ask if Alfred was done with his work. Predictability was definitely not a quality of a true hero.

Well, if Arthur refused to argue with Alfred, then what was he supposed to do? There weren't many nations that disliked Alfred. After all, he is the hero and everyone loves the hero. Well, everyone except communists, but they don't—SNAP! A light flicked on inside of Alfred's head, illuminating the idea that had been right in front of him, this whole time. A nation that most feared, but not Alfred. He was a true hero. Heroes aren't afraid of anything, especially lead-pipe carrying, scarf-wearing, big communists, like  
Ivan Braginski. Fearlessness. Bravery. Guts. Another thing heroes had. They fearlessly fight off any evil and protect the right to freedom! Eat, sleep, procrastinate, talk, observe, protect.

He plopped down onto his black leather couch, sprawling his legs over the armrest. Smirking, he raised the phone to his hear and listened to the phone ring. Riiiiiiiiing. Riiiiiiiiing. Riiii—in the middle of the third ring, a shuffling was heard on the other line.

"Hey, commie!" Alfred greeted into the earpiece. He cracked his knuckles on his legs as he waited for a response.

"Amerika?" Ivan's voice cracked in through the static. "I am sorry. I cannot hear you very well. Let me step outside, da?"

"Hey, fatso. Can you hear me now?" Alfred asked impatiently. His eyes wandered to the ceiling above him. It looked like white cake frosting swirled around on his ceiling. His stomach felt hallow. He placed his left hand on it, ignoring the hunger pains.

"Ah. Amerika!" a thick Russian accent called through the phone. Was that _happiness_ he heard in Ivan's voice? …No, it couldn't possibly be! What reason does that commie have to be happy, hearing from Alfred, right? "You have called about the meeting, da?"

"Well, actually I ca—meeting?" Alfred was caught off guard. He sat up straight and scrunched his eyebrows under his glasses.

"Da. The conference is held here this month." Ivan giggled. His voice was now crystal clear through the receiver. That was most certainly a Russian giggle. _Creepiest thing ever…_ But cute? NO! DEFINITELY NOT. Russia was the big guy with the lead pipe who Alfred fought against for freedom. Communists aren't cute. That's absurd! …But yet, that giggle was somewhat… _comforting_? "Do not tell me you forgot! The meeting is only in a week, young Amerika! I knew you were not so bright, but to forget an important conference?"

"Don't be stupid! A hero never forgets," Alfred snapped. Remembering. Another thing a hero did. Alfred never forgot a single important date, birthday, or conference… unless it slipped his memory, of course. But that was very different than forgetting. A hero never forgets! Especially not when he had been filling out papers about this very meetings, moments before. Eating, sleeping, procrastinating, talking, observing, protecting, remembering. Alfred was a true hero.

"Well then, dear Amerika, why is it that you are calling me?" Alfred could clearly hear the smile in his voice. He laid back down on the couch, calming down once again. He gave some thought to his next answer. Ivan's voice could be heard again, only slightly more distant, like he had pulled the phone away from his ear. "Da. Thank you. Here is fine…. Quite a lot of money for a short ride, da?"

"What are you in a cab or something?" Alfred almost laughed. Taxi cab in Russia? That just sounded silly. "Do they even have taxis in communist countries?"

"Amerika!" Ivan's voice was once again loud in the phone. "What did you think I meant when I said the meeting was being held here? You did not think I meant my home, da? Perhaps you are as stupid as you seem."

"You came here a week early?" Alfred shot up onto his feet. That little fuse in this mind had connected blue wire to blue wire and discovered what _here_ actually meant.

"Da. Most nations like to come _on time_ to the meetings, rather than fly in the day of." Alfred didn't understand why but his heart skipped a beat. Ivan was here. In his country. In New York City (where the meeting was being held and Alfred was currently staying). Flustered? That definitely wasn't a hero trait.

"Procrastinating on your paperwork again, da?" Ivan waited for a response but did not get one. He sighed. "You have become so predictable over the years. We have fallen into this sort of routine, da? … Dear Amerika, calls me every week before he hosts a meeting to "protect freedom", is it? Just does not want to do his paperwork, da?"

"I… err… h-how…?" Alfred stammered. He still stood in the middle of the living room, confused. Flustered. Predictable.

"Dear Alfred, shall we break this routine? I will come over and we can eat a nice Russian meal, da?"

Alfred wanted to decline. Heroes don't have dinner with their enemies. No, no way! That just didn't happen. But, something was stopping him from declining. It was… uh… hunger, of course! He simply couldn't take the emptiness of his stomach anymore. That was it! He was a hero. He needed food after all. Eat. It's what heroes do.

"Uh, sure…" Alfred nearly whispered. He sat slowly back down on the couch, staring at the distance in shock.

"Ah, I knew you would agree!"

Eat, sleep, procrastinate, talk, observe, protect, remember, be predictable. A true hero.

…

**Eh, not my best. I really suck at ending these things. Also, I wandered out of my comfort zone and wrote some Russia :O Hope it was at least decent. I enjoyed writing it. That's all that matters, right? ;D**


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